


Of The Night

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Dumb Makeouts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which glam trash cecil is a party animal and punk rock earl is a worried momma bear, so they share cheesy kisses in a dirty alleyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of The Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punkrockgaia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/gifts).



The rhythm of the music drives through his body and fuses to meet the timing of his heartbeat. He’s surrounded by a sea of sweating grinding bodies. There’s certain anonymity in the room as no one can really make out anyone’s faces with the lack of light, the darkness only disappearing for a split second with the flashing lights above them on the dance floor. All thoughts fade from Cecil’s mind as he lets the music and the heat wash over him.

When the sturdy hand grabs his forearm panic pulses through Cecil’s veins, the grip was not playful or flirtatious, like a man would if he fancied Cecil to dance with him, or fuck him in the bathroom. He considers pulling away, but the hand has a force behind it- and Cecil would almost certainly lose if it came to a fight. The idea of yelling out would be useless too, with the music overpowering any other noise. He whips around instead, hoping that telling the man to kindly fuck off in a harsh tone would scare him off, but when he turns around. he’s met with a familiar face.

“Earl.” He mouths, but he’s not sure if he hears him.

Earl wastes no time in trying to pull Cecil off of the dance floor, into the smoky margins of the side of the night club, and back into the fire escape.

The two of them break out from the heat of the club into the cold night air and the smell of past rain.

"What the fuck, Earl?" Cecil yanks his arm from Earl’s grip. "What’s your damage?"

Earl doesn’t respond, just looking at Cecil and sighing.

"Well? What excuse do you have for interrupting me? Can I go back inside now or are you gonna drag me someplace else?"

Earl pulls in close, slowly, and kisses him once. He lingers for a moment before beginning to retreat, but Cecil doesn’t let him. Cecil places his warm fingertips on either side of Earl’s jaw line and pulls the boy back to him. Cecil sighs into the kiss and lets his arms lazily wrap around Earls shoulders. The kiss isn’t sloppy or gross or lustful, it’s a sort of gentle exchange, something Cecil would probably regard as ‘cheesy’ if he weren’t so tipsy and ‘in the moment’ with Earl.

When they finally pull away from each other, Cecil rests his face in the side of Earl’s neck, his arms hold Earl’s neck tightly while Cecil deeply inhales his scent, pine and cigarette smoke.

He hums against his skin sleepily, and Earl lets him drape himself on him like a child. Cecil wonders in this very moment if he holds Earl long enough and tight enough if he can dissolve into Earl completely.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Cecil asks when detaches from his trance.

“No.” Cecil can see every curve and peak of Earl’s facial structure emphasized under the dim alley light when he pulls away to study him. Cecil almost wants to reach out again and just feel from his cheeks to his jaw to the dip of his collarbone, peeking out from under his leather jacket.

“Aw, don’t be that way, Early.” Cecil pulls away with his outstretched arms resting on Earls shoulders. “I can fuck you, If you’re in the mood for bottoming.”

“I’m taking you home.” It’s a statement, not an offer.

“The night is  _young_ ,” Cecil exclaims, “and so are we, so why waste it?”

“You have to work early tomorrow morning. You told me.”

“Oh. So?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m just a little buzzed, is all.” Which is right, Earl had seen him far more intoxicated than this. Earl had seen him in such a drunken mess that he’d contemplated calling an ambulance.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“You brought your truck here? To rescue  _me_? Oh Early.”

“Shut it.” Earl hisses.

“My  _knight_.”

“Let’s go, Cecil.” Earl pulls back, letting Cecil’s arms fall to his sides.

“What if I refuse?” Cecil asks.

“I’ll fucking carry you, but you better not.”

“Would you?”

“Shut up.” Earl reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a half empty carton of cigarettes, and offers one over. Cecil takes it, and winks.

“You’re a romantic, aren’t you? My Earl.” Cecil links his arm into Earl’s, a little too dramatically, before strolling away from the doorway light, the darkness enveloping the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday punkrockgaia!!


End file.
